


Paying Ransom for a Ghost

by starchaser22



Series: Seven Day Fic Challenge [6]
Category: DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Rating for Language, Super Sons - Freeform, background SuperBat, just two bros dying together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starchaser22/pseuds/starchaser22
Summary: Prompt: Jason is tasked with babysitting Jon and Damian.





	Paying Ransom for a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> wow this took like 7 years  
> also i didnt know where i was going half the time so just. go with it.

"Roy, get your ass over here."

  
"Why? Miss me?" Jason knew that Roy was just being smug.

"No, Roy!" A crash, Roy didn't dare think about what may have caused it. "Supes left his kid here and- Fuck! Roy, shit has officially hit the fan."

In spite of his friend’s obvious distress, he laughed. “Come on, isn’t Dick there? Or Batdaddy?”

“No, they-” A high pitched scream and a loud, booming CHING, “-TIM, GET BACK HERE, OR I SWEAR ON GOD’S NAME, THESE SUPER SHITS WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEMS ONCE I GET DOWN THERE AND SHOVE YOUR FUCKING-”

Roy put Jason on speaker phone, choosing to ignore the disaster while Jason was occupied and reading through some case files instead.

“Roy? Roy?” The other line was suddenly quiet, save for the sound of Jason’s hushed whisper. “Listen to me, and listen fast. I have never felt so scared in my life, and I’ve died Roy, I have seen what is beyond the grave and let me tell you, it is nothing compared to these out-of-control asshats.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad. Why isn’t Dick there? I thought he had the night off.”

“Yeah, that went well. The absolute shitfuck left me here. People say he’s the next Batman, but my god, he’s like the crappy dollar store version of Bruce.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep from laughing at his friend’s discomfort. “Jason, stop-”

“No, you stop,” Jason interrupted, voice raising in volume with every word. “You know nothing. Actually, you know less than nothing, because if you knew you knew nothing, then you’d know something.”

There was a pause. “Bro, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know, man. I think Tim is rubbing off on me.”

“Anyways, I’m not coming over.”

Jason let out a high pitched whine. “I’d help you out! Come on, it wouldn’t even be that bad if it wasn’t for that ass-dandruff that I’m somehow related to, be it biologically or not.”

“God, fine. Just, just stop talking. Please.”

————————————

Roy thinks, deep down, he knew Jason wasn’t exaggerating.

It’s like the first time you find out Santa isn’t real. You don’t want to believe it, but somewhere, in the back of your head, you know it’s true. Your mind says one thing, but your heart says another.

Upon entering the well-known Wayne Manor, there were a few distinct features that stood out to him. First, all of the carpet had somehow been removed from the grand staircase. Second, a distinct smell of mayonnaise, and lastly, smoke. A very thin layer of smoke, almost as if there was a white filter on everything. Not so much that it impaired vision, but it was very noticeable.

“Jason?” Roy’s voice echoed through the vacant rooms. Actually, they were really empty. Like, not just lacking people. All of the furniture was gone.

And in a rare moment of respect, Roy found himself thanking every god he could think of that Oliver was his mentor instead of Bruce.

“HHHHHHHHHHIIIIYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Superboy may seem all harmless and adorable, but when flying from the ceiling screaming battlecry, it’s actually terrifying. And if Jon was here, then Damian…

Entering a duck-and-roll to dodge the incoming ten year old, Roy parted to the right, narrowly escaping one of Robin’s batarangs.

“Hey guys!” Roy yelled, jumping to avoid a ketchup-filled water balloon (how did they get that past Alfred?) “Jason called me over, so if you could just stop throwing things at me-” a sidestep to avoid Damian hitting him with the hilt of his sword, “that would be pretty cool!”

After a few more dodges, Roy settled for an obvious solution. Drawing his bow, he aimed a smoke arrow at the floor. Running, he screeched, “JAAAASSSSOOOOON!”

But that’s when he saw it. He had never believed in any deities or higher life forms until he saw that dimly lit crack between the pantry’s doors.

He didn’t stop to think about how safe this actually was. For god’s sake, Damian was trained by the league of assassins; he would notice the change sooner or later, and then the two of them would be trapped.

“Hey, dipshit,” Roy slid in next to Jason, pushed him against the wall as he struggled to fit them both side-by-side in the narrow space. “Nice of you to invite me over. Really enjoying this lovely party you’re throwing. A nice prologue to my funeral.”

Jason shushed him, putting one finger over Roy’s lips and one over his own. “You’ll have to be quieter. Jon probably has super hearing or some shit.”

“God, you shit-seeping fuck nugget. We can’t live through this,” Roy resounded, making the best attempt he could to dramatically wave his arms in the air given the tightly enclosed space.

“Shut up!” Jason hissed, emphasising the strong “sh” sound. “Just- just shut up. Please.”

To be fair, Roy didn’t make a sound for a solid twenty-three seconds after that, but he just couldn’t resist asking, “So, is there anything about death you’d like to warn me about?”

Jason just threw his head back, slamming against the wall as he let out a long groan. “Why did Tim have to leave me?” He wondered, half to himself.

“Oh, yeah, where is Tim?”

“Locked himself in the Batcave.” Jason rolled his head over to face Roy, then back to the other side, dark hair clinging to the wall. “Don’t know how. There’s so many fucking entrances to that place, but none of them are working.”

“You know, there are other people you could have called. People who understand technology on a level beyond iPhones that could have helped,” Roy suggested. Honestly, Gotham is like a Superhero hotspot. Batman legitimately started a revolution. There are so many masked crusaders running around the streets, it’s hard to keep track of who’s who.

“Yeah, is there anyone you had in mind?” Jason asked sarcastically.

That’s true. It is a weekend, and late at night. If there was anyone else still up, they were probably doing their own vigilante-related things. Roy seriously doubts that Johnny Quick or Blue Beetle would want to come over and help babysit Superboy and Robin. “But did you actually ask anyone else?”

Jason’s shoulders sagged. “No.”

Sighing, Roy answered, “Well, why don’t you text Barbara? Or Michael, maybe.”

“Barbara is out with Dick, and, come on, do you really think Michael isn’t busy?”

A shrug, “You’re probably right, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“But it would, Roy. It would hurt to ask.” Jason looked down at the floor, head hanging over his curled-up knees. “It would hurt my soul, my dignity. Besides, I actually don’t know the guy that well. Don’t even have his number.”

“Jason.”

“Roy.”

“Jason.”

“Ro- wait, shit! I think they’re here!”

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Roy whispered each “fuck” in quick succession of the previous, gradually getting quieter as he tried to force his body to merge into the wall. Or the wall. God, why couldn’t he have been one of the cool ones with superpowers? All he got was a shitty bow and a bunch of arrows that aren’t even symmetrical most of the time. Roy made a mental note to complain to Oliver later.

Step, step, step, step, step, step- Roy’s heart stopped with the footsteps.

“Todd, Harper, your hiding is atrocious,” Roy never believed in Satan more than at this very moment. “I will graciously supply you 30 seconds to find somewhere better.”

“Adios, you fuck!” Roy screamed, all but breaking the pantry door off as he sprinted towards the entryway…

...which is now apparently blocked off.

And as Roy scattered up the stairs, tripping over his own feet, all he could think of was how, if he lived through this, Jason sure as hell wouldn’t.

The upstairs still had all possessions and furniture perfectly untouched, which was somehow so much worse.

Why were two preteen kids so intimidating? Well, Jon isn’t, save for the fact that he pretty much would follow Damian to the depths of Satan’s buttcrack. But Damian… was a different story. He is the actual outcome of what would happen if you mixed a terrifying vigilante and a professional assassin. Roy has never even had a real conversation with the kid.

So here he was, running down the dimly lit halls of Wayne Mansion, on escape from some terrifying preteen boys. Roy felt as if all hope had been snatched away, but then he saw it. The answer to his prayers.

At the end of the hallway, behind a pair of rusty pantry doors, was the perfect hiding space. Something so obvious, yet so inconspicuous. Somewhere that seems like only kids playing hide and seek would use.

But isn’t this just a really intense, life-or-death version of hide and seek?

Swallowing his pride, Roy climbed into the washing machine. There was still a few loose socks in there, as well as a pair of Batman-printed underwear. Roy faintly made note to ask Jason about those later.

Slowly closing the door, Roy pressed his knees to his chest, praying that no one had some life-dependent laundry they had to get done.

“God, it’s so cramped in here,” Roy mumbled, itching to just stretch-

What the fuck?

It appears that Jason has stumbled upon a secret secret entrance to the BatCave, one that not even Tim knew about.

The back of the laundry machine opened with a faint squeak, revealing a long, twisty slide, because not even the mighty and feared Batman can resist a little fun.

“I knew I was missing an entrance!”

Upon hitting the floor, Roy peered up at a shocked and frustrated Tim.

“Timothy.”

With a huff, Tim marched back over to the exaggerated computer display. “I knew the schematics didn’t line up,” he mumbled, pulling up new windows on the screens. “God dammit.”

Roy stood, dramatically brushing miniscule amounts of dirt and dust from his jeans. “Don’t you think you have bigger things to worry about? Like how you abandoned your brother to the fun-sized version of Satan?”

“Eh,” Tim waved his hand, gesturing incoherently. “He’ll live. And if he doesn’t, it’s not like he hasn’t died before.”

“Wow, so glad I don’t have any siblings right now.”

“Besides, I have much more important things going on,” Tim hit a few buttons and typed in some gibberish until a set of security footage was displayed. “Bruce and Clark are on a date.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I followed them through different security cams. They split with Dick, Diana, and whoever else like an hour ago.”

“But,” Roy stiffened, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable about all of this. He was basically spying on Batman and Superman. “You don’t know it’s a date. Maybe it’s some super secret nipple piercing club or something. Does Bruce have a nipple piercing? No, don’t answer that.”

Roy continued to ramble as Tim zoomed in on a few select feeds, enlarging them across the monitors. The two of them were sat face-to-face in a dimly lit restaurant. There were roses and small candles on all of the tables, lined with silk, off-white tablecloths.

The two men were leaning in, deeply engaged in conversation. Clark’s chin was resting on his knuckles, candlelight reflecting in his glasses. Roy found himself leaning in, captured by the intensity and romance of the situation. Was he proud of this? No, but it was like a sappy Hallmark Christmas movie. So perfect that it’s wrong, and you just can’t stop watching.

“FUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!”

Oh, thank god.

Jason’s blood-curdling scream interrupted all of Roy’s secondhand-swooning, replacing it with an immense sense of dread. “Don’t you want to help him?”

Tim looked at Roy, then at the main exit, then back at Roy, and then to the monitors before shrugging, “Nah.”

So Roy accepted the mysterious bag of popcorn Tim handed him, and together, they switched back and forth between Jason’s death and the date, both of which were thoroughly entertaining.

———————————————

Bruce expected things to go well, but not this well.

Truthfully, he originally just wanted to multitask. His and Clark’s date could overlap with Damian and Jon spending some nice, non-life threatening time together.

But then Jason crashed another motorcycle.

Things will always get destroyed in the line of vigilantism, that’s a given, but Jason goes through the motorcycles like toilet paper. He uses it once and then condemns it to a life of eternal hell in the sewers (no, really, that’s where he usually leaves them).

So, naturally, Bruce just left Jason in charge.

He gave Alfred the night off and took all other helpful authority figures away. Nope, Jason was going to suffer.

As Bruce walked into the house, taking in the distinct smells and sights, he wasn’t bothered at all. He’d been meaning to redecorate, anyways.

Strolling into the kitchen to pour some tea, the only thing unsettling were the faint clues that Roy Harper had been here.

Man, was Bruce excited to hear all about this from Oliver. 


End file.
